Murder At Deviation Junction

    'I daresay,' I said, nodding, for of course the Co-op ladies went all out for the women's cause.

    'I had to take a drink with the Chief,' I said. 'I saw him this afternoon at the shooting gallery -' 'He was at a funfair, was he? I wouldn't put it past him, from what I've heard.'

    'Shooting range,' I said, 'if you want to split hairs. It was necessary for me to take a glass of punch in order to keep in with him.'

    'Does he take your part against the man you hit?'

    It was a cute question, but I gave a nod, just as though the matter could not possibly be doubted.

    'You must have your promotion, you know,' she said. 'Otherwise I will not be able to take up my own.'

    Wright was signalling to me from behind her.

    'I must see this chap,' I said, indicating Wright.

    The crowds of ladies pressing in from all sides were threatening to part us in any case. I cut through to kiss the wife, and moved towards the old clerk, who looked very anxious at the strangeness of being overwhelmed in this way, and very curious.

    'I didn't know your missus was in the Movement,' he said.

    'Aye,' I said. 'Well, what's up?'

    'The London friend - Bowman -'

    Wright was eyeing my suit.

    'He's been coming through on the line every hour.'

    'I thought he was dead.'

    'Not him. You look half-dead yourself. What's up?'

    'I crowned Shillito.'

    We were walking towards the door of the Ebor Hall.

    'You crowned Shillito?' he repeated in a sensational whisper.

    He'd repeated it twice more by the time we were out in Coney Street, with the Co-op ladies' piano becoming faint in the background.

    'I gave him a damn good hammering,' I said.

    Wright was fairly bursting with questions, and the one he eventually gasped out was: 'When?'

    'Four o'clock time,' I said

    'I was out of the office then,' said Wright, and I could tell he was cursing himself for that. He then started in on a hundred other questions, but I checked him with one of my own for him:

    'Where are we going, mate?' I said.

    'You're going to telephone this Bowman fellow. He told me he's stopping late in his office, and I said I'd let you know if I happened to run into you.'

    I was going to telephone, and old Wrighty was going to listen.

    Ten minutes later we were in the empty police office, and the snow was dripping off our coats as Wright wound his magneto. The cold air had sobered me somewhat, though I still felt queer as Wright passed me the mouthpiece and did not move away. We were elbow to elbow as I said into the instrument, 'Mr Bowman? It's Detective Stringer here.'

    But he didn't quite take that.

    'Jim?' he said. 'It's Steve here.'

    He might have been moving fast on a train from the sound of him - an Underground train.

    'There's been a bit of a turn-up over the Peters business,' he said. 'A man has been stationed outside my house every morning and evening for four days.'

    'What's he doing?'

    'Watching the place. Watching me.'

    'All the time - morning and night?'

    'Not quite. He comes and goes. He must've taken lodgings roundabout.'

    'Do you know him?'

    'Certainly not.'

    'What does he look like?'

    'Big, wide - not over-pleasant, strange stockings.'

    'How do you mean?'

    'Yellow. Nobody wears yellow stockings in Wimbledon.'

    'How do you know it's touching on the Peters business?'

    'Well, isn't it?'

    The line went and then came back, swallowing what might have been a moment of fear on Bowman's part.

    'Look,' he said, as the connection came back, 'this man's not your Wimbledon type, and it's a little anxious-making.'

    Bowman was an intelligent man who was not at that moment in drink. He was speaking to me as though I was the same, and I was galvanised just as I had been at Stone Farm. Bowman was not an adventurous sort himself, but he brought adventure to me. Here was movement in the mystery, and I heard myself say, 'I'll come up to London directly - come and see you tonight.'

    'Tonight?' he said.

    But even as I spoke, I was thinking: I'll arrive in the early hours, too late for the Underground ... I didn't fancy the cost of a cab across London.

    'Well, I've got to look into the timings - that might not be on. But I'll run up to London tonight, put up somewhere near King's Cross and meet you first thing in the morning.'

    'Then come to the office. But it can't be first thing - it's press day, and there's a lot of copy to get off. We'll meet at midday underneath the big clock at the Royal Courts of Justice on Fleet Street. Do you know it?'

    I did - from my Waterloo days.

    'I could spare an hour before I'd have to be back here,' Bowman continued, 'but we can sink a few pints and I'll put you in the picture.'

    'Scrub out the beer if it's your press day,' I said.

    'No fear.'

    'But now you're going to have to go through another night of being watched. You might contact the Wimbledon police.'

    'I've thought of it, but that would mean alerting Violet, which I'd rather not - and then again, what do I have to complain of? There's a man standing in the street. Well, it's not my street.'

    Wright stepped back and marvelled at me as I put down the receiver.

    'What now, then?'

    'He's being followed.'

    'It's to do with your photograph, is it?'

    'You're beginning to believe there's something in it, aren't you?'

    'I didn't say that.'

    Wright was holding the door of the police office open for me. We stepped out and he locked up behind us.

    The cold wind of Platform Four was cutting like no other.

    'You can't go to London,' said Wright, as he followed me into the booking hall where the timetables were pasted up.

    The last London train was nine thirteen. I knew the one. The night stationmaster turned out to see it off, then everything went quiet until six in the morning. I had no need of a ticket; my warrant card would see me to London.

    'You'll be for it, you know,' said Wright, as we walked back to Platform Four. He had evidently decided to wait and see me off, being in no great hurry to get back to the Co-op ladies.

    I was looking in my pocket book: two fivers might be in there, or one and a quid. I couldn't bear to look. I had a bit of silver besides, but that was all I had until payday - if there would ever be another payday. And there was still Harry's aeroplane to be bought, amongst many other Christmas items.

    'You know my missus, don't you?' I said. 'Will you go back to the Ebor Hall and tell her I've gone to London in connection with a case - with the case, for she'll know what you mean - and that I'll most likely be back tomorrow?'

    'Most likely!' exclaimed Wright. 'You've belted your superior officer, and now you're making off without permission.'

    There was nothing to say to that. Above our heads, the great minute-hand of the station clock shuddered to the mark of half past ten.

    It was a shame I had to go to London with my suit in such a state, for they were all dapper dogs down there. Further along the platform, a lass in a cape stood singing 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen'. I'd seen her on the station before; she sang with a toy dog on a decorated box at her feet with an upturned straw hat placed alongside. By rights she was loitering and liable to a forty- shilling fine. Wright looked on as I walked up to her and put a shilling in the hat.